Not Always About Revenge
by HamsterPooh
Summary: Jason Todd has had a beyond-rough life, but things are about to get a bit more interesting...in a good way for once! Bruce/Jason, Jason/Dick, Jason/Tim, BR3, and little Kon/Tim Warnings: M/M, M/M/M/M, Lemon, Violence
1. Pure Adrenaline

**Chapter 1:**

**Pure Adrenaline**

'_It's just adrenaline, pure unspent adrenaline._' Jason repeated the words over and over in his head, chanting it like a comforting mantra as he held his knees to his chest. Hot breaths pushed past his lips in forced puffs, the air rhythmically leaving him as if to make room for the invasion of something foreign, pulsing, and alive. A quiet moan left him, high-pitched, more so than his prepubescent voice already was. He tucked his lips inward between his teeth, exhaling through his nose while another moan came out in a hummed treble. '_It's just…adrenaline…_' It was getting so hard to think straight. The soles of his uniform shoes crinkled, bending with his curling toes. The heat pooling in his lower abdomen was starting to knot, twist, and jerk, his body flexing and clenching with the odd sensation.

"Ah…" The smooth, but deep voice was inches from Jason's lips, and his lips sought out those lips as if they'd anchor him to reality. It was only a brush of lips, not a kiss, but the action earned him something outside of the rhythmic movement, large hands pulling the green scaly Speedo from his thighs and down his legs. He teasingly caught the fabric on the toe of his shoe, earning himself a soft but stern slap on his bottom. He couldn't help the chuckle that he emitted, and he knew it was a calculated action that turned that chuckle into a long, drawn out groan of pleasure. He didn't know exactly what a prostate was, but he knew it made his cock twitch with near-release every single time it was stroked. Those big hands pulled his legs around a thick but solid waist, and he hooked his legs behind the body at the ankles.

His world began to move again. '_A-adrena—line!_' His mind was now screaming the word in unison with the bursts of pleasure brought on by a mixture of a thick mass stroking his prostate and his hole being stretched and pulled outward and practically rolled back in on itself with each thrust. "A-ah!" he cried out, his legs pulling the body, which made no protest, flush against his hips. As much as it made his features contort with a disgusted expression, he swore he could feel the invading cock well past his rectum. Still, he rolled his hips, humping and gyrating to rattle the organ around as much as it could in the tight passage, much to the other male's pleasure. The feeling was something new, but it wasn't as amazing as the thrusts that made his own member bounce against his costume shirt.

The older male seemed to read his mind, and the bed creaked under him while he pried the youth's legs apart and repositioned himself to deliver harder thrusts than before. Jason felt exposed with the calloused hands spreading him, pinning one leg back against his chest and holding the other leg out by the ankle in a show of his superior flexibility, but something about the position made him feel so damn sexy! He pulled his costume up, belt and all, to fully reveal his toned teenage abdomen, his other hand falling to his bobbing cock and squeezing and pumping it in a glorious show of why this particular act of pedophilia was justified; he was too hot to not screw senseless. A deep, guttural groan complimented the display, and the thrusts came in hard snaps of deadly strong hips. "Aaah, Robin…" That wasn't his name, not his birth name at least. Something about that bothered Jason, so he didn't bother to put on anymore of a show.

Instead, he pumped his length with urgency, the build-up of pleasure causing him pain in his pelvis which triggered his inner walls to clench hard around the invading organ. His body jerked with quicker and less rhythmic thrusts, a hard thrust and then a shallow one followed by a grind of their hips. He arched his back clear off the bed, his throat opening to allow a moan to escape completely unmuffled, and at the end of that moan followed a name, "Bruce!" Jason's hand moved frantically, pumping sprays of hot semen from his penis to splatter over his bare abdomen and the hem of his Robin uniform. Alfred would get the stain out, so it didn't strike him to care about the mess.

It was only a minute before he felt what he decided was an unpleasant warm and gooey sensation inside his rectum. The low moan that was emitted above him with the sensation was wordless and strained in an attempted hushing of it, another thing that Jason was slightly insulted by. '_Doesn't he know my name?_'

It didn't matter, though, because the sex was only a necessary release of adrenaline. That's all it was. That's all it would remain throughout his superhero career.

It took him years of being on his own through his various anti-hero, and sometimes villain, personas to realize it was actually a selfish release for Bruce. Oh, yes. And the bastard was too much of a coward to say "Dick" instead of the vague "Robin". '_Well, I think it's about time I find out what's so wonderful about The Boy Wonder,_' Jason thought as he stamped out his sixth cigarette that day, lips quirking into a smirk.


	2. A Kiss Comes From the Tongue

**Chapter 2:**

**A Kiss Comes From the Tongue**

"What was he _thinking?" _shouted Nightwing in mid-flight, arms spread out like the professional acrobat he was. He hit the rooftop in a practiced roll, coming back up into a run that appeared to be part bound. The spring in his step came in handy as he leapt out toward another windowsill, one he used to thrust himself up toward the higher roof that was his destination.

Batman cringed against the unnecessary volume of the voice over the intercom. Didn't Dick know how to use it yet? '_No time to think about that_,' he thought, running through the information presented to him earlier like a computer would a file. '_The dealer with the most damage was operating on school grounds. Why would Jason care though? And how is that strike worth the entirety of the sector's criminals? Sixty-eight heads for one mistake? There's no indicator he knew any of the children in the area..._' For once, Bruce was stumped. '_Is he looking for attention? No…Could it be a trap? No. He could have done a lot less to lure us out here._' Completely stumped. He leapt up from the lower roof, a little less gracefully than the acrobat ahead of him, aiming his wrist to eject the grappling hook to attach to the higher rooftop. It was successful, and soon Batman was a full half a building's distance ahead of his protégé.

Dick didn't seem to notice or care, or maybe he was used to it. He just continued his quest by leaping onto ledges and windowsills. "I mean, what warrants a _slaughter _like _that_!" He was a little more upset about the incident since it happened in the neighborhood around the circus act that his parents died in. He saw the bloodbath before Bruce was informed about it; he saw how the bodies were left where they fell to be seen by men, women, and children alike. "He's out of his mind."

"No. There was a message in all of that. To who or what it was, though, I don't know." Bruce didn't know why he felt compelled to defend his possibly psychotic past sidekick, but he did, and he couldn't just let Dick call him crazy without the evidence. Not that an evening massacre over a dime bag sold to a minor wasn't evidence enough. The momentum of the pull of the grappling gun jerked him up over the edge of the building, and he released the hook while landing on his feet on the surface of the roof. This was where the Red Hood was last spotted by an anonymous source. His blue eyes, masked by the white material in his mask, scanned the area for clues on where he may have headed next, and he found one. A big one.

Jason was leaning on the partially eroded wall of an old shed on the roof, sucking down the toxic smoke of a cigarette as he calmly surveyed his new guest through his old Robin mask. Smoke seeped from his parted lips like milk mixing in water as he pulled the stick from his mouth. "Hey, Bruce. What brings you here?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, and any smoke that escaped his mouth during his greeting was sucked back up through his nose. He smirked as he brought the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling.

A trap was starting to seem far more likely. Bruce had learned his lesson, and he started looking around the rooftop—with one eye kept on Jason—for any explosives. There were none. Maybe he really had lost his mind this time. "Why did you kill them?"

At that moment, Nightwing, in all his flashy glory, decided to appear over the ledge of the rooftop, falling into a roll and then a crouch inches away from his adopted brother. "One of the rookie dealers was only sixteen!" he shouted. "They found a stray dog finishing off his intestines!" He rose to his feet, the mask on his face yielding to the scowl on his brow, barely visible beneath his unruly bangs.

The thing about the sheer white material over the eyeholes of the various masks used by superheroes was when the light hit it just right, you could see right through it. Jason was pleased to be greeted with vibrant blue eyes, burning just for him. He didn't seem to care they were burning for his blood, or at least his capture. "I have _rules; _they were broken," was his only response, his words coming out with a thin layer of exhaled smoke as he flicked his cigarette over to the looming dark figure several feet away.

Batman stamped the cigarette out, toe twisting over it. "This city has laws; this isn't the first time you've broken them." Deep down, he knew this would just be another scenario where Jason would flee and not receive a proper punishment, but…he had to at least try to capture him. Again.

Dick was the first to move, pulling the escrima batons from his boot compartments. His eyes remained on Jason even as he moved to circle him.

But Jason wasn't having any of that. No. He was on a mission, and he wasn't about to let a fight break out before he could accomplish it. He swung his arm around, capturing a clump of the older ex-Robin's hair and giving it a hard twist as he brought his head back around. A foot anchored behind Nightwing's far ankle kept him off-balance, forcing him to drop one baton and grab hold of the shed wall and use the other baton as a short cane.

A bat-a-rang was positioned between Batman's fingers, ready to be thrown, but he was frozen in shock. Before him, Jason had forced his lips over Dick's, pulling his head in hard enough that his mouth was forced to open lest he have his front teeth broken out. His head was moving in a rhythmic force of his lower jaw and a gentle tilt of his head. Jason wasn't just kissing Dick, he was making out with him. Bruce's jaw had gone slack with disbelief. When had Jason ever shown interest in Dick?

The makeshift cane fell with a clang before Dick managed to fist the front of his adopted brother's shirt, twisting the material around his neck as hard as he could. Really, it was the only resistance he was offering. His tongue had joined the other pink muscle as soon as it became obvious Jason's only intention was a kiss, mingling with the invading muscle and massaging it. His lips were stretched painfully with the force of the kiss, but, damn, the tongue action made up for it and then some. When Jason pulled away, Dick was breathless, so much so that there was little difference between him and the literally oxygen-deprived Red Hood.

Jason had a plan, though, and he didn't require oxygen to his brain to carry out a plan. He brought the taser out of his jacket pocket on instinct and pressed it to the black material covering Dick's hip. Then, he sparked it and smirked at the howl of pain that came from his enemy.

Dick finally collapsed from the Red Hood's hold, shuddering with excess electricity. There was only so much electricity his suit could dissipate. He looked to Bruce who seemed confused on what had just happened from the kiss to Nightwing hitting the ground. Of course; the taser was used out of Bruce's sight.

Batman didn't really need to know what had happened. The bat-a-rang flew from his fingers with a flick of his wrist faster than it would have taken him to ask questions. It spun toward Jason's face, trajectory aimed to pull it back toward Jason's hidden hand if he turned around.

But Jason only tipped his head back so the lethal boomerang barely skimmed his Adam's apple and zipped back through empty air, forcing Bruce to hold his breath and release it when his jugular wasn't severed. He remained smirking as he stared down at Dick, a spark in his deep blue eyes only visible through one eyehole from just the right lighting. His jeans strained against his muscled thighs as he fell into a squat over his victim who twitched with trapped electricity. "I'll see you around, Dickie-bird." He flicked a few unruly dark strands out of the man's face before standing and flicking a half-salute toward his former mentor. "You should get him back to the cave, Bruce. He doesn't look so good." With a snort, he turned away and sprinted off of the building, legs still moving in midair before he hit a nearby rooftop in a military-style roll.

Time slowed for Bruce; he had to decide whether to go after Jason or help Dick. They didn't encounter Jason every day, and he'd just killed more people in an evening than Joker used to do in a month, but Dick was struggling to get up through the spasms rocking his body. Obviously, that taser packed more than enough electricity to kill anyone not wearing protective material. "Damn it," he spat, walking over to the struggling Nightwing. He'd have to deal out justice another day.


	3. Do Not Disturb

**AN:** Sorry it took so long to write this chapter! ;0; It's probably because there's no Jason. It's more fun to write about him than Timmeh.

**Chapter 3:**

**Do Not Disturb**

It took roughly ten minutes for the electricity to fully disperse since the current traveled throughout every piece of equipment Nightwing carried—which happened to be a _lot_ of metal. Only when the electricity had dissipated could Batman help his comrade into the summoned jet. "That was reckless."

Dick peeled the mask off of his face as he situated himself into the passenger seat. "How was I supposed to predict he would kiss me?" He was angry about the shock, but he was a mixture of confused and turned-on by the kiss, so, to Bruce, he was sure he looked like a child, miffed. "That was…new."

Batman settled into the pilot's seat with a sigh. "You could have fought him off. From what I saw, you encouraged him," he semi-scolded. He didn't want to be too hard on him simply because Dick was normally so, as much as he didn't really like to admit it, _helpful. _Any mistakes he made had to have been from that kiss throwing him off. He could understand that, he supposed.

"I was caught off guard," Dick admitted with a guilty sigh. He was ashamed. Sure, he'd made mistakes in the presence of a woman, but getting thrown off by a man was a first for him. "It won't happen again."

"It better not."

Back at the Wayne mansion, a guest had arrived, not by the front door, but he'd arrived nonetheless. A light tap on the window alerted Tim to his friend outside. "Kon!" '_How did you manage to get past all of the security?' _he thought, quirking a brow. New measures had been taken to ensure any threat would be detected even outside of the property, but, then again, how many of the Gotham villains could fly? Tim disabled the security locks and sensors on his window and allowed the boy in, who embraced him in a crushing hug, a goofy smile stretching his cheeks. "What are you doing here?" he coughed out, his lungs barely able to take in any air.

"What else? I came to see you!" Conner Kent exclaimed, completely ignoring the fact he'd just _snuck in. _"Cass is out of town, and…" A bump of his hips finished the sentence, his Kryptonian meat threatening to burst out of his jeans to greet his comrade.

Tim's face heated up instantly, and, as per usual, he tried to wriggle away from his friend. He wouldn't be resisting for long, though, and moments later, he was being thoroughly prepared by Kon-El's skilled fingers.

Bruce and Dick climbed the stairs into Wayne Manor after an unusually awkward flight, and, at the entrance of the Bat Cave, stood Alfred, tea on hand. "Welcome back, Master Bruce. Sugar, as usual, Master Richard?" He obliged Dick who nodded in his usual bubbly manner, preparing his tea with one hand while holding the tray with the other. "Here you are, Master Richard," he said, handing the tea over with practiced ease.

"Where's Tim?" Dick asked, taking small sips of his beverage. He needed the warmth in his stomach right now.

"Master Timothy has a guest in his room."

"A guest?" Bruce asked, raising a brow at his butler. Tim almost never had friends over, so Bruce always assumed he didn't really have any friends outside his superhero comrades. "Who?"

"Superboy, I believe, Sir."

Dick nodded in understanding, even while his adoptive father remained a little "confused" if not outright rejecting the idea. It wasn't that Bruce was oblivious to Tim's "relationship" with his super comrade; it was just that he preferred to ignore it.

Whether anyone was ignoring them or paying full attention to them, Conner Kent and Tim Drake-Wayne were moving in unison, bodies attached pelvis to rear. Tim's legs were wrapped around his friend's waist as he sat—or gyrated—in Kon's lap, his arms hugging tightly around his neck. His didn't make a sound, even as air was forced from his lungs with each hard thrust up into him. No, not even a peep left him, even with what he'd nicknamed "Supercock" impaling him. He wasn't the most skilled Robin, nor was he the bravest one, but Timothy Drake could take a dick better than any porn star he'd searched online, and that was something to be proud of.

The silence in the room was broken by Kon who couldn't hold his tongue if the fearsome _Batman_ were waiting right outside the door. "Ah! You like that…don't you, baby?" He drilled the smaller boy as hard as he could from the angle Tim chose. "You're so _hot _inside, you know that? Mnh! It's amazing." He could really talk during sex; he'd give Bart a run for his money in this situation. He was about to say something along the lines of, "You like my dick inside you, don't you?" while incorporating the word "cum hole" in one way or another but his "surroundings" tightened and his world went white for a moment. Robin could never even hope to be a match for Superboy, but Tim could leave Kon speechless with a tiny clench of his muscles. "A-aaahh…"

After a short conversation with Alfred and a sugar-laden cup of tea, Dick followed his guardian back into the Bat Cave where Bruce sat scrolling through faces Dick didn't recognize, brooding. Though it was not an unusual sight, Dick still felt the need to confront and possibly comfort the man. "Is it about Jason?" he asked, stopping behind the older male and resting his chin in his dark hair, flattened by the cowl. Such acts of affection were rare and even more rarely allowed. Still, he tried.

"No."

The usual clipped response didn't surprise Bruce's first son, and he wasn't deterred. "Oh. So it's about Tim." Without warning, Dick reached over the man's shoulder and pressed a button separate from the keyboard on the computer. Every monitor lit up with different angles of the same image, Kon resting back on Tim's bed with Tim riding him into a sex coma, cum puddled on the blankets underneath Tim's bouncing bottom from the young Kent's first orgasm. "He's being treated decently from what I can see."

Bruce turned his head away from the screen, closing his eyes when the sound filtered into his ears.

"How do you always—ah—manage to last so long?" Kon was breathless, exhaling between every couple of words even when he could barely breathe in.

A husked breath escaped Tim as he drove himself down especially hard. He didn't want to admit he barely felt any pleasure through Kon's first orgasm because he was so focused on bringing _him_ to release, so he didn't answer at all, and, instead, focused on the thick throbbing vein pulsing inside him. It was almost as good as a slow vibration, even though the sensation was not against his prostate. He could remedy that, though, and he did. After he repositioned himself into the "reverse cow_boy_" position, he resumed his ride, the new position conveniently allowing his body to feel each pulse of Kon's blood through his very _vascular _cock and brushing the thick shaft along his prostate with a little more pressure. Even with the head of Kon's huge penis delving into uncomfortable areas of his anatomy, he could always count on the monster girth to stimulate his prostate.

"We need security against flying foes, it seems." Bruce wasn't joking. He wasn't even making a fond insult. He was serious.

Dick chuckled. "Why? So Tim can waste even _more _of his time studying?"

"Time is never wasted studying."

"But Tim is," the now Man Wonder mused, letting out a soft sigh. "He once told me he was repulsed by masturbation. Can you believe that? I don't know how he _survived_ without Superman's boy!" Dick animated his point with various hand gestures, only moving away from Bruce to huff at the monument to Jason, his hands placed on his hips. "Maybe _Jason_ has distaste for masturbation. Maybe we need to find him a nice girl."

"Maybe we need to think about what we're going to do about his little massacre and not what we're going to do for his dick." Bruce cut the feed from Tim's room, but only after hearing a slightly effeminate sound come from Tim as he arched over Conner and created another mess for Alfred to tend to.

"That's easy for you to say. You didn't have his tongue down your throat," Dick said, waving the man's comment off quite literally with a fan of his hand. Fond memories flooded his mind, though, and that memory left his mouth wet from salivation. Who knew a smoker could taste so good or hold his breath long enough to thoroughly explore someone's mouth? It was times like these that Dick wished he wouldn't take his mask off immediately after missions. He needed something to hide behind now that his costume was stretched over his half-hard cock.

Bruce refrained from mentioning he'd had Jason's tongue down his throat, had returned the favor, and had done so much more.

**A Little More From the Hamster!:** yukio, thanks for the review! This chapter's dedicated to you!


	4. Irresistible From Behind

**Chapter 4:**

**Irresistible From Behind**

"**Where are you?**" Batman shouted into the com, tone laced with panic. "**Nightwing! Respond!**" He kicked in another rotting wooden door, the wood splintering off into every which direction. '_Come on…_' he pleaded with the God that never seemed to answer him, but the room was empty. He heard a thud above him and scaled the stairs to the next floor. The noise turned out to be scrambling from junkies in a crack house. "**Damn it!**"

Everything had happened so fast. They had encountered Red Hood while in pursuit of a high-ranked mob boss. Jason opened fire on them—Well, not _them_. Nightwing. The bullet grazed the acrobat's ear, and that had riled him up enough to give chase after the fleeing anti-hero. But, before they had gotten too far, Batman heard the click of a cocked gun and turned to see the mob boss with said gun aimed at Nightwing. He was forced to do what he always seemed to do—save his son's ass. When he turned back to resume his pursuit, though, both Red Hood and Nightwing had vanished. Batman ordered Robin to take care of the subdued criminal, and then left him to help capture Red Hood. Before long, it became obvious that Jason had planned his escape route. He had planned _everything_. He had managed to separate Nightwing from Batman and Robin with little effort.

Luckily, all of his birds wore a locating device.

Still, the locating device wasn't perfect. It had directed Batman to the building Nightwing was in, but it wasn't really telling him _where he was_ in that building. Something was messing up the signal. Whatever it was, Batman had no doubt Jason had planned that too. He decided to skip the floor-by-floor tactic and headed straight to the roof. That was, after all, where the birds would prefer to play, wasn't it? He just hoped Jason wasn't dangling Dick over the edge or vice versa. He wasn't partial to the idea of losing two sons, or one son twice.

"**Nightwing,**" he heard through a rough frequency, "**—Batman…I—use a litt—_help_—!**" There was some movement along with the words, unsteady footsteps and a crack. He recognized the sound of Dick's escrima sticks colliding with something metal. A knife? Batman pushed himself harder up the stairs, figuring he couldn't safely use the grappling hook on such an unsteady structure. Batman needed to help his partner, but Bruce needed to save his sons.

He burst through the fire exit at the top of the stairs, bat-a-rang ready.

What he saw was Nightwing's boot sliding over the side of the building. "**Nightwing!** He sprinted over to the ledge and dove right over for it, but the boot was just that—a boot. There was no Nightwing, or Jason for that matter, to be found. He aimed his grappling hook for a nearby building with a more solid structure to catch himself before hitting the ground.

Meanwhile, several buildings in the opposite direction that the locator had led Bruce, Dick was being dragged up the stairs of an abandoned apartment complex like a struggling child. His costume shirt was lifted halfway off and twisted, covering his face and binding his arms above his head. His shoes and gloves, along with the weapons compartments hidden in both, had been removed and discarded during the fight.

The first time Jason cut Dick with the kris, Dick hadn't paid much attention to it. After the second time, he twisted his ankle in a stupid stumble that earned him another cut. When, after the third cut, he'd lost his footing and fell to the ground hard enough to bust his chin on the concrete, he knew he was poisoned or drugged. Either way, Jason had made easy work of him, roughing him up a little before disarming him and binding his arms.

"**Need…Batman…**" His words were slurred and he had to think about each one before voicing it. He didn't understand why Batman wasn't there, why he hadn't answered him when he needed him. Now he was at the mercy of a possible psychotic who thought kissing was a decent distraction during a fight. Luckily, he hadn't kissed Dick this time.

"**Don't worry, Dickie-bird. Bats'll be here any minute now.**" Jason chuckled as Dick lazily twisted and shifted in his hold when he pulled him through the fire exit and onto the roof of the complex, the drugs taking the fight right out of him. "**But I don't see why you always need Daddy Bat around when your little brother is just trying to bond with you.**"

There was obviously something sinister in the statement, but Dick was so susceptible to suggestion in his current state that he actually felt a pang of guilt. "**Sorry…**"

Jason let out another chuckle, this one a little louder than the last. "**Don't worry. You're going to make it up to me.**" He laughed fully when his captive nodded in determination, oblivious to his bad intentions.

Dick whimpered weakly when he was pulled to his feet by his raven hair, his body dead weight under the strands. "**U-uhh…**" He could no longer form complete words, reducing his ability to protest properly. A sound resembling a sob left his throat when his legs were kicked apart and he was expected to stay on his feet. He did his best to lock his knees and remain standing, but it was…_difficult_, to say the least. When Jason hooked an arm around his waist and shoved down on his head until he was bent over, Dick had half a mind to be alarmed. "**Nnnuuh…**"

The pitiful plea brought a smirk to Jason's lips. His eyebrows furrowed out of amusement, shifting his old Robin mask in a way that made the glue tug at his skin. It was actually a pleasant feeling. But so was the tingling in the pit of his stomach from having such an amazing view.

Dick Grayson had the _perfect_ ass, and that was no exaggeration. He had the perfect hip to ass ratio, the optimal roundness to a male bottom, and deep dimples where his glutes always seemed to be flexed. Yes, Dick had an ass that would put the always-running Wally West and the seemingly perfectly-muscled Clark Kent to shame.

Like a kid ripping into his presents on Christmas Day, Jason was quick to indulge in the most perfect piece of anatomy he'd ever seen, even through the protective elastic of the Nightwing costume. He pressed his hips flush against the firm rear, just savoring the feeling of being only a few thin pieces of fabric away from having his dick snug between those pert globes. His hips moved slowly at an upward angle. The body in his hold was unmoving, but he ignored the possible unconsciousness of his captive as he slid the tent in his pants up the crack of Nightwing's ass. "**God, Dick…**"

Even though he could barely think, Dick was well aware of the erection prodding him from behind; he knew what it was and he knew what it implied. "**Uugh—Ja…**" He just couldn't get a damn word out to help himself. This little predicament was only getting worse by the second. Now, not only was he without weapons and the use of his body and mouth, but he was being sexually assaulted by his legal brother. He felt the bulge trace back down his crack, and he let out another sob-like sound. What was he supposed to do? He was helpless!

Jason was about to let Dick's ass meet its biggest fan when he was interrupted by a dark shadow looming over his shoulder. "**You're late.**"

"**But not too late.**" Bruce grabbed the back of his formerly deceased son's jacket and jerked him back.

Jason hadn't suspected such a straight-forward action, so he stumbled back, catching his balance about two feet from falling over the side of the building. "**Tch. You can't stop the inevitable, Bruce. You have to let boys be boys.**" With that, Jason turned on his heel and jumped off of the side of the building. He wouldn't be caught with his previous knowledge of his surroundings.

The second Jason had been pulled away, Dick crumpled to the ground, his face hitting the concrete and sustaining injury for the second time that day. "**Uugh…**" He was thankful his feelings didn't require actual words.

For the second time after a confrontation with his most rebellious son, Bruce lifted Dick into his arms and summoned the jet. '_When did you become his target? What does he want from you, Dick?_' he wondered, surveying Nightwing for any sign of failing health. Saving Dick's ass just took on a whole new meaning.

**A Little More From the Hamster!: **Thanks to Khammoun, Xukra, totallyPSYCHED, chubere, and Fate Vione for reviewing~! It makes me happy to know people are actually enjoying my story~! So I'm dedicating this chapter to you guys!


	5. Going Straight To Hell

**A/N:** Hiya, guys~! So…I got kind of side-tracked. I'm working on a one-shot about Cat!Tim and Damian. It's just a fluffy bit of love, so…Anyway, about this chapter, I got this idea at the end of the last chapter and finally decided to do it. It was supposed to be Jason/Tim with some Kon/Tim sprinkled on top, but that'll have to be the next chapter. :X Sorreh.

**Chapter 5:**

**Going Straight To Hell**

"**Uugh…**" Bruce watched, his cowl removed so the concern was plain on his face, as his oldest adopted son twisted and arched on his bed, the bed Dick would crawl into at night when he was only a child. His face was flushed a bright red, his body drenched in sweat and seemingly unable to stay at rest. Whatever Jason had given him was making him writhe out of what Bruce assumed was pain. All he could do was sit there and watch, and wait until the results came back on the drug he'd extracted from Dick. "**B-Bruce…Uhn. Make it stop.**" His words were slurred, barely recognizable.

At least the drug had cleared up enough for Dick to get out an intelligible word here and there, though. Bruce didn't know how to make it all stop, but he made sure to let his son know he was there. He wrapped both hands around Dick's hand, squeezing it gently, and his eyes widened a little at how his son gasped at the contact. Was he sensitive to all pain? Just as he decided to release the hand, Dick reached up to grab his wrist. "**What are you-?**"

"**Make it stop…**" It was a cross between a plea and a guilt-laced sob. "**Please, Bruce…_Please_! Nnh!**" Dick twisted over the bed as if he were trying to get away from himself and the way his body's condition was cancelling out his self-control and common sense.

Just as his hips arched toward Bruce, Bruce caught sight of the real problem. Jason had given Dick something to _arouse_ him, to make his body sensitive in a _sexual_ manner. So when he'd held his hand he—Bruce's mouth fell open, jaw going slack in shock. He was the reason for the seven hard inches trying to free itself from the spandex of the Nightwing costume. Or was it eight? He shouldn't have looked long enough to wonder. '_No_,' he told himself. He'd fought these urges since the day he first made eye contact with the acrobat. '_He's your son._'

Dick twisted back, his shocking blue orbs catching Bruce's immediate attention. They were glassy, shining with unshed tears. "**Daddy…**"

There was a suggestive tone in that word that kept Bruce from reacting like a father. It made him strain painfully against his protective cup. "**Dick, you don't know what you're implying…**"

"**Oh, God, Bruce…Please…I need you.**" Dick's hips were moving in an attempt to grind his erection into the spandex. "**It hurts…**" His fingers twisted in the sheets and blanket. He wouldn't break down and just touch himself with an audience, but…was he really willing to have Bruce "help" him? Yes. Yes, he was. He pulled the captured wrist over his body, forcing Bruce to lean over him.

In that moment, the beginning of every filthy fantasy Bruce had ever had about his son came true. His lips were pressed to Dick's in a firm kiss. Those lips were soft and moist from salivation. Dick was actually so horny for him, he was _hungry_ for him. Bruce shuddered, losing his control for that one moment.

"**That training…**" Dick murmured against Bruce's lips, "**…wasn't for combat, was it?**"

Bruce didn't know what he was talking about. He searched his memory for a hint of what it could be. There were several things he'd taught his son for situations outside of combat. "**Be specific,**" he ordered, his cobalt blue eyes focused on the handsome face below him.

That handsome face took on an expression Bruce had only seen in his dirtiest dreams. Half-lidded eyes were accentuated by a suggestively raised brow and a smirk that could have looked almost scary had it not been for the plush lower lip trapped by Dick's perfect teeth. "**Over the years, I never once thought of a reason for me to not have a gag reflex.**"

Even if he were wearing the cowl, Bruce still would have choked on his own saliva. Yes, that training had been for his own sick pleasure. Watching the little Boy Wonder swallow whole popsicles and graduate up to sword-swallowing was…Well, Bruce was only a man. Even he had done selfish things for arousal in his past. The thought, though…God, those lips wrapped around bigger and bigger objects—watching those objects _disappear_ down his slim throat. Bruce grabbed his son's face, hands planted firmly on his cheeks, and kissed him. He didn't just _kiss_ him. No. He tongue-fucked Dick's mouth about as thoroughly as he'd mentally raped him over the years. He was surprised when Dick returned the far too erotic kiss, and he was even more surprised when Dick was _good at it_. Oh _God_, the boy kissed like a hurricane! It was rough, wet, and, with his tongue twisting and grinding against Bruce's like that, it was like a cyclone in his mouth. And when he sucked Bruce's tongue like _that_—Bruce broke the kiss to outwardly hiss. He was _literally_ painfully hard. The cup was smashing his length in a way that would make a less aroused man go soft.

Dick looked concerned. "**Did I-?**"

"**No. No, it was-…**" '_It was a sign. Karma._' Bruce shook his head. He pulled away from Dick and replaced the Batman cowl over his head and eyes. He turned away quickly so he wouldn't see the look of confusion and maybe betrayal in Dick's eyes. In that drugged state, Bruce knew Dick would probably see him as not caring that he was in pain and needed relief.

Dick reached out for him, but he couldn't chase after him; not when he was this hard. "**_Bruce!_**"

There was no way he could give in now. Not again. He wouldn't scar him like that. So Bruce left.

After locking the door to the study behind him, Bruce removed his uniform and sat at his desk in nothing more than his underwear. He rested his face in his hands and tried to gather his thoughts, and possibly his sanity. '_You're not that kind of man. You're not a pedophile, and you're not incestuous._' But he was, and no amount of lies would change that. He'd molested Dick and he had raped Jason, his sons.

'_Jason._' Jason was the only one he'd given in to fully. The boy had been raised on the streets and had a sleazy tongue and a fluid dirty way of moving. Bruce had suspected his mother had lent him to drug dealers for a fix, but Jason had insisted no such thing had ever happened. He'd sworn he was a virgin when Bruce first had sex with him. _Raped_ him, because he was a child and couldn't consent…and that was probably why he was the way he was.

Bruce had raped a child. He was practically the leader of the world's most powerful hero organization, and he was a child rapist. How did this happen?

Dick's blue eyes immediately came to mind, big beautiful baby blues that looked at him with need. It wasn't sexual need, but a need for someone to love him, care for him. And Bruce did love him. He fell so in love so fast that it scared him. It scared him because it was _sick_.

He recalled watching that tiny body sleep, the covers bunched at his feet because the night had been so unnaturally hot. Bruce had approached the little beauty with confusing and evil intentions. He rested his hand on his bare thigh, idly thinking to himself how half of that slim thigh could fit in his hand. He remembered how soft it was, hairless and milky white. He'd moved his hand upward, his fingertips slipping past the elastic leg hole of tiny blue underwear so they could prod his soft butt cheek.

He could still hear that quiet sound Dick had made when he stirred from slumber, but not enough to wake up. It hadn't swayed him from his objective, though. Instead, it brought his penis to full attention. He remembered how the head managed to find freedom through the front of his boxers. The gasp that left his mouth was quiet as the outside air brushed over his cockhead.

And then it wasn't air but a warm cheek that was brushed over his flesh. Bruce had freed his entire length to rub it gently against the orphaned acrobat's untouched bottom, his precum leaving shiny trails over the soft globe. Dick only seemed mildly agitated in his sleep, and Bruce assumed it was because of the way he was pulling his underwear into his crack to have full access to one cheek. Bruce's breathing was labored as he resorted to leaning over the boy as much as he could without laying on him in order to hump him. Like a dog, like he was subhuman. He moved like the filth he was, grinding his dick against the ten-year-old that he'd taken in.

He got away with it for a full minute, and, in his new criminal mindset, he thought that was a sign he could do more. So he did. He pulled those practically-panties a little more to the side to reveal the boy's little pink puckered hole. He had gotten the head against it, stretching it slightly, the slit in the head of Bruce's cock poised perfectly for what happened next. Bruce remembered getting a sick pleasure from Dick's nightmare-induced sleep-talking. "**No…D-daddy,**" he'd said. He remembered biting his lip so hard it bled when he came, remembered Dick making an unhappy sound as something warm and wet entered him, Bruce's sperm.

The same sperm that filled Bruce's underwear as the memory came to an end. His fists clenched against his face. He was going to Hell for _that alone_.

**A Little More From the Hamster~!:** I'm so happy about the reviews and I'm happy to see some more people have favorited my story! Thank you sooo much! It keeps me going. :3

Big special thanks go to plummy-kins, Silenthilllz, Fate Vione, and chubere~! Especially to Fate Vione and chubere who have been reviewing each chapter. You guys know how to keep a girl typing. I hope I don't ever let you down.


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